Records
by Izzu
Summary: Post Journey's End. He started to forget...


az: I seemed to be fascinated with this episode it's not letting me off. Originally wanted to include this inside Resonance before scrapping it. Hopefully this turned out well... and not sounding like I'm rambling nonsense.

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><p><span>Records<span>

Written by Izzu alias honou-no-izumi

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He took a long breath before turning on another page of the journal on the desk and placed the tip of his pen on it. He sighed before starting to write down a piece of memory from a distant past that he—no, _the Doctor—_had seen and experienced.

It was an act, reminiscent of a similar one _he_ had done... back when _he_ had turned himself into a human. It was a _pointless_ thing—perhaps—but he felt that he _needed_ to write them down. The memories... the faces of the people—aliens—that he had met in the past, he felt the need to keep them with him intact. Because, while the Time Lord in him still retained all of the memories and most of the abilities _he_ had; the human part of him that was given by Donna... provided a _weakness_ in him that was _human_. It was not just about how his body was—is—partially human, having one heart instead of two. Or the fact that now in this form, he could no longer cheat death the way he always did in the past. He could no longer regenerate—good, he would always remain having the same appearance... the same _him—_and that made him mortal. He would not have to bear the notion of having to live _too long_ any more.

And there was another thing that _changed_ in him due to the meta-crisis. His ability to recall memories and retain them occasionally _failed_ him. That was something the _old_ him would not experience.

That realisation scared him for some reason.

It was not as if he had started to lose his memories... no, the Time Lord part of him would never allowed that to happen. But in the same way his memories had resurfaced as dreams for _John Smith_, it was like that for him.

As days gone by, he started to notice... that it was getting a bit hard for him to recall certain memories at once. When that happened for the first time—when he started to realized that he began to forget about certain things—alarms shot into his heart. Because while his cognitive abilities was still better than _most_ humans, he noticed himself being slightly _slower_ in processing things inside his head—something he _normally_ do not feel.

Aside from the still-growing TARDIS at the backyard of their house, his memories was the only thing left that _reminded_ him of the fact that there was still _half_ of him that was part Time Lord. To lose that and having _most_ of his treasured memories buried deep inside his brain due to his _human_ part, was a notion he dared not feel.

Thus... that was why he had got himself a journal, to allow him to write down most of the important memories that he did not want to lose. Memories of the journeys _he_ had with his companions, the people he met. But most of all, memories of Gallifrey. He would not _ever_ want to lose those memories.

While his remaining Time Lord ability allowed him to keep every single memories he had until that _point_ of separation without burning out, he did not like the notion that those memories would be locked inside the deepest corners of his mind.

John Smith sighed as his hand stopped writing. He put down his pen before picking up a pencil to start sketching. He drew some faces... one of them was Donna, while the others had been...

He bit his lips as he reread the things he had written. Today's entry had been about that horrid trip to Midnight that ended up not being as _fun_ as he thought it would be. He frowned as he remembered the terrible things that happened inside that ship, seeing the ugliness of humans he never thought he would see. He smiled bitterly. Perhaps it had been a good decision to start this journal, not just to keep his memories alive... but as a reminder to himself to not completely becoming _human_ and losing his Time Lord self. That particular _ugliness_ was not something he wanted to have inside himself.

John flinched as for a brief tic he could sense his other self again. _Oh yes_... _this bond still exist_. Yet he wondered how long would this _connection_ remained with him. Would this bond be finally severed the moment his other self regenerated anew? He could sense it at times, that the life in his other self was weakening. And what seemed to began to drain from _him_, appeared to reach for him... becoming _one_ with him. He started to feel like he started to become _more_ him, yet not... and because he occasionally forgets he was not sure if _this_ was doing either of _them_ any good.

John hastily wiped the tears that started falling before he sobbed. Even far apart, he could still sense _him_. Though the connection started to feel... faint. Only when his other self felt intense emotion... was he able to sense him—and his other self had done that too often lately. He could feel the other him being sadder and sadder, much lonelier than he remembered feeling. Worry started to root inside his solitary heart, somehow he knew what this would signify to his other half.

_His song is ending soon_...

He frowned, before turning to a new page. He started writing again; this time not touching any particular event, he just wrote anything that crossed his mind about _himself_. He was not ginger... but rude? Was he funny? Sarcastic? Sexy...? John chuckled as he recalled those words he had uttered at the Sycorax ship the moment he had been revived by the smell of steaming tea. He wrote down the many things that made his tenth incarnation—the form he took and retained—slightly _different_ than his past selves. The part of him that was dark... the part of him that was good, memorable. The sense of self he intended to continue being and not lose to his human, slightly Donna-ish self. He would keep the memory of _himself_ alive with him, till the day he die.

He might now be a _mortal_ Time Lord, but he would never allow himself to forget. A child of Gallifrey should not forget his roots, even if he was not truly born on it. He might be a _shadow_ to the original Doctor, but he was still the Doctor nonetheless. He would not allow himself to become too human to the point that he forgets.

He will never allow himself to forget. Not if he could help it.

xxx

Rose Tyler slowly opened the door and slipped inside the room to find the _Doctor_ asleep at the edge of his writing desk. Gently as to not wake the man, Rose tried to move John towards the bed using the chair as an aid. With slight difficulty, she hauled him up before tucking him onto the bed. She sighed before turning to look at the open journal on the desk. She smiled weakly at the last entry, before shuffling the pages to look at the earlier entries as she saw sketches of her, Donna, Martha, Jack, Sarah Jane and many others in between anecdotes of the past. There were also sketches of his previous self that she knew first, as well as some other... probably the faces he had looked like in the past. She turned to look at the sleeping man, who even in slumber had remained looking like a lost child with no other places to go. She put down the journal before climbing up the bed and wrapped her body around John.

Suddenly she felt bad for being slightly distant to him since that time at the Bad Wolf Bay. In her grief of being left behind again, she neglected to notice that perhaps _this_ Doctor was also not coping well with things.

Rose got off the bed again before heading towards the writing desk and reaching for the thick journal and writing utensils. She turned towards the most recent entry before setting her pen on the page and started adding her own description towards the narrative about the _Doctor_ that she knew well.

Before calling it a night, Rose added a final note... saying that: while John might only be a copy of the original Doctor—the tenth incarnation—it did not change the fact that John _is_ the Doctor. She would always be there to keep reminding him who he was till the end.

Until the end...


End file.
